The rosy and amber sparks shot right out towards me. Behind the red plastic sheets, the sapphire and sometimes snowy white sparks glowed huge and luminescent. They emerged far and wide, nearly touching me as they jumped over the sheet. The magnificence of the sparks put me in a trance. The flickers of light molded and blended together before they simmered down to the ground, each flash of light burning out just as it touched the floor.

When I had first entered the metal working studio it was very warm with a light breeze coming through the open door, which made my skin tingle. On the front of the door, I noted a little cream sign that read Stonybrook Fine Arts Studio. As we stepped inside, the distinct smell of burnt aluminum foil indicated that we were walking into a metal shop. Though the space was quite large we were all crammed into a confined area, encircled by cutting tools and various drawers.

As the welder murmured a list of things about what he would be showing us, I rotated my head all around the room. Looking from left to right, I could see different scraps of metal plunging out from drawers and shelves. Continuing to ignore the welder, I turned back to the metal rods. They were prodding out from their container, making it seem like they were reaching out for me. The cylindrical pieces of metal were of diverse sizes and colors. Some were dark grey and some were black, others were long or short.

The welder started his presentation on a rectangular piece of iron as I finished observing my surroundings. A fiery white flame emerged from his torch and approached the metallic rod. A section of metal that he was melting started to sizzle down, making a tinted orange color appear. The sparks from the contact between his instrument and the bit of metal started to fly around, making me jump back in fear. Oh gosh, I’m going to die here, I thought to myself. The room was spinning. It began to turn hot, suffocating me as he lit the torch yet another time. Moving the lighter towards the segment that he was working on, items flew once again. Even though I was terrified of getting scorched, I didn’t jump back this time. Instead, I leaped forward, mesmerized by the glowing light as it illuminated the windows surrounding me.

As the metal fireworks dispersed, an awful aroma arose in the air.

“Ugh, what is that smell?”

“Wow, that is disgusting.”

I heard confused comments from my friends as the odor roamed around the air, filling the noses of every person in the room. The stench wasn’t pleasant one bit. Consuming my nose, it reminded me of something I couldn’t put my finger on. I sniffed the air once more. Is that burnt hair I smell? I was reminded of the scent from a hair salon as the stingy metallic whiff engulfed me.

With the smell of welded metal came an airy gust of smoke. Traveling up towards the ceiling, the smoke dispersed, just as the sparks had. When the smoke cleared, and the smell left, both fear and awe swirled in my head. All that remained in the end were the beautiful flashes of sparks that fizzled as they made their way to the floor beneath my feet.

AUTHOR
Lalah R.
9th Grade

Boston & Beyond
Polished Piece

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